


The Agreement

by byebands



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: College Professor!Lydia, Drama, F/M, Father!Stiles, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, On Hiatus, Past Relationships, Pregnancy, Pregnant Reader, Vet!Scott, cursing, dad!stiles, fbi agent!Stiles, sort of friends with benefits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-07 23:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebands/pseuds/byebands
Summary: Special Agent Stiles Stilinski of the FBI has everything anyone wants. He has a great place to live, a car that actually reliably runs, great friends and a career that’s on the rise. The only thing missing is a family. That’s where his best friend, (Y/N), comes in. Together, one drunken night on her couch, the two come up with a plan. To give them both what they’re missing, they decide to start a family. Together. Thus, the agreement is born.On. Hiatus.





	1. The One With The Drunken Plan

**Author's Note:**

> If this isn't just an excuse for me to fulfill my love of FBI!Stiles and of dad!stiles, I do not know what it is. This story will evolve as it progresses. I have no clear idea of where it's going, but lord will it be a ride. A fluffy (and sometimes angsty) ride. I would love any and all feedback (good, bad and indifferent).

The feeling of her cell phone vibrating against her thigh caused (Y/N) to startle. She had completely zoned out of the world, eyes glued to the television screen in front of her. A new Netflix show had been released, and it just so happened to coincide with this weeks days off. An unexpected occurrence that (Y/N) had decided to celebrate on her couch in pajamas and an overstuffed comforter, with a family sized bag of potato chips dumped into a blue bowl to make herself feel better about wanting to eat the whole bag. 

Looking down at her phone, (Y/N) was less than surprised to see a familiar name written above the word ‘ _ iMessage’. _

“What do you want, Stilinski?” She asked of the empty room as she pressed the pad of her thumb against the round button at the bottom of her phone. It vibrated in her hand and ‘ _ Try Again _ ’ flashed at the top of the screen, her phone unable to scan her chip grease coated thumb.

Tapping in her passcode did the trick and her phone automatically pulled up her new text message. 

“ _ Are you free?”, _ it read.

“No.” She muttered aloud, pausing the television. She clicked on Stiles’ contact information, deciding to call him rather than wasting time with texting.

“I asked if you were free, not to call me.” Stiles said as way of  _ hello _ .

(Y/N) rolled her eyes a little and wiped her dirty fingers against the blanket that was spread across her knee. “I know what you asked, Stiles. But I’m in the middle of watching a show. I rarely get two consecutive days off and I’m going to enjoy them to their fullest. I shall start the first of two nights where I do not have to worry about getting enough sleep for work in an appropriate way. By binge watching television until my eyes dry up and fall out of my skull. You texting me interrupted that, and I have called you to ask you to leave me alone.”

“Hmm,” Stiles hummed into the phone. “That wasn’t the prettiest visual I’ve ever been given, but, suit yourself. Can I come over?” He asked. (Y/N)d could hear velcro being pulled apart in the background. 

“No.” 

Stiles scoffed into the microphone of his cell, “why? I’ll binge whatever you’re watching with you. I don’t mind. What is it? Maybe I’ve already seen it.”

(Y/N) shook her head, throwing the blanket off of her legs. “You haven’t,” she said confidently. Stiles muttered a few words that (Y/N) couldn’t understand as she made her way to the small kitchen. She opened the fridge, looking for something to drink.

“You don’t know that. What is it?” Stiles asked. (Y/N) could tell that she had been put on speaker. 

“Santa Clarita Diet.”

Stiles was silent for a moment before agreeing with her, “no. I haven’t seen it, but. I just googled it and the summary looks interesting. Besides, don’t we like Drew Barrymore?”

“No, we don’t. We don’t care for her,” (Y/N) stated matter-of-factly. “We’re only watching this show because of Timothy Olyphant. He’s carried the show for the first two episodes so far, and I’m assuming it’ll stay like that for the rest of the season.” (Y/N) huffed. “Why am I saying ‘we’ as if you’re watching it with me?”

Stiles ignored her question. “You’ve already been at this for two hours?” He sounded a bit surprised. “Didn’t you get off like, almost two hours ago exactly? Did you not even change out of your work clothes?”

“They’re half hour long episodes,” (Y/N) pushed her (y/h/c) out of her face. “Wait. Why do you know when I got off of work, Stiles?”

There was silence on the other end. “You did  _ not _ ask Melissa to send you my schedule every week, did you?” (Y/N) questioned into the phone as she held a bottle of ginger ale over her glass. 

“No,” Stiles said hurriedly. “Course not. That’s weird, huh? A best friend would never do that. I just figured you know, that was the time you got home. Good guess, me.”

“Stiles!” (Y/N) shouted, setting the bottle down on the counter. “Stop doing that. Don’t ask for my schedule again. Period. I need to have  _ some _ privacy.”

“And you do! I have no idea what goes on in so many areas of your life, (Y/N). Promise.” You heard what sounded like something dropping onto the floor. “Hey, listen I’m gonna head over anyway ‘cause I just finished packing my overnight bag. I’ll be there in like, fifteen? See you then.”

(Y/N) was going to argue and protest, to tell him not to dare come over, but was met with the distinct sound of a dial tone in her ear. “Fucker,” she muttered as she put the bottle of ginger ale back in the fridge.

 

Half of an episode of  _ Santa Clarita Diet _ later, Stiles was knocking on the front door of (Y/N)’s apartment. For a moment she sat cuddled in her blanket contemplating whether she should answer the door or not. 

Before she could stand from her couch her front door was being opened. Stiles walked in with a smile spread across his lips, and two bags in his left hand. “Hey,” he called to her. 

“I didn’t give you my spare key so that you could use it to break into my apartment.” 

Stiles shoved the key into the pocket of his jeans and shut the door behind him, throwing the deadbolt into place. “Oh well.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s not technically breaking in if I told you I was coming, and like you said, you gave me a key. I could say I was living here, or that I was doing a wellness check on you since I hadn’t heard from you in a few days. If you were to report me, of course.” 

(Y/N) watched him kick his shoes off by the door and pad over to the couch, his sock clad feet making a dull thumping sound with every step. “Please, come in.” (Y/N) said with annoyance. “Don’t you have work tomorrow? Why are you assuming you can stay over?” She grumbled as he set his bags down on the coffee table. 

“No I don’t. I’m also off for the next two days, purely coincidental I promise. Which is why I’m here.” He took his wallet out of his back pocket and stuffed it into the duffle he’d carried in.

(Y/N) watched him remove his phone next and set it on the arm of the couch. “You had better of brought me something.” She indicated the grocery bag that clashed with the dark blue duffle.

Stiles smirked. “Of course I did. Would I even be able to keep my membership to the ‘(Y/N)’ fanclub if I didn’t bring you something every time I came over to visit? Which, may I remind you, is too often for it to be fiscally responsible of me.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes dramatically, “there isn’t a fucking fan club. That’d be weird, Stiles, and you would be the only member.”

“No,” he disagreed. He lifted the chip bowl and blanket off of the spot beside her on the couch and sat down, setting the bowl on the coffee table beside his bags. “Scott would be a member, Lydia would be a member and so would Melissa I’m sure. You’re her favorite nurse.” 

“Am not!” (Y/N) protested, reaching forward to grab the bag. Stiles caught her wrist in his hand before she could, waiting until she sat back against the couch to let go. “Calm down,” he made a lowering motion with his hand. 

He grabbed the bag himself and brought it to his lap. “Alright. I made an executive decision while I was at the store to grab wine, since you have tomorrow off. Though I couldn’t choose between white or red, so I got one of each.” He set the two glass bottles down on the coffee table and (Y/N) nodded approvingly, already deciding on the red as hers. “I also grabbed a box of this weird new ‘popfetti’ popcorn, or something. It’s supposed to taste like a cake, I dunno. I was staring at it for too long and this old woman noticed so I felt obligated to buy it. Should be interesting.” 

He set the box of popcorn down on the table, producing the last thing from the bag. “Gummy bears, for you. Since for whatever reason you always want them when you drink.”

(Y/N) smiled, snatching the bag of gummy bears from his hand. “Stop acting like you know me.” She winked at him before tearing the top off of the bag. “Would you mind getting the corkscrew from the kitchen, and two glasses?” She nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Way ahead of you.” Stiles leaned forward and grabbed the bottle of red off of the coffee table, quickly pulling the wrapping off of it. “Twist tops.” He unscrewed the cap and tossed it onto the table. “Just drink out of the bottle, no one here will judge you.” After handing (Y/N) the bottle of red he grabbed the bottle of white and repeated the process.

“To days off!” Stiles smiled big, holding out the neck of his bottle for (Y/N) to clink hers against. 

“To days off,” she said softly. She clinked her bottle against his, giving him a wink before bringing the mouth of the bottle to her lips.

 

(Y/N) and Stiles had polished off their bottles of wine before they could finish two episodes, and (Y/N) felt like she wasn’t able to enjoy them. “What should we watch instead?” She whined, leaning against Stiles, her head on his shoulder. They had raided her alcohol supply and produced two more bottles of wine, which they were currently nursing. 

“I don’t know. You were the one that said you wanted to binge watch this show until your eyes fell out.” He pointed out, reaching his hand into the metal bowl that held the ‘popfetti’ in it. “You choose if you want to change it.”

(Y/N) huffed, returning to the main menu of Netflix. She began scrolling through her list for a moment, swigging from her bottle of wine. “Yes!” She said, pulling the bottle away from her mouth. “What about  _ Friends _ ? Oh, we used to love watching  _ Friends _ together when we were in high school. Do you remember that? It was always on late at night on that one channel, and we’d always be up so it was like, our go to.” 

Stiles smiled fondly, “I remember.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “so. Would you be okay watching that?”

“Sure, (Y/N).” Stiles said, downing a mouthful of wine. 

(Y/N) clicked ‘ _ resume _ ’ on whatever episode her Netflix had left off on, and dropped the remote between them. 

The canned laughter greeted the two, and (Y/N) cuddled closer to Stiles, clutching her wine bottle to her chest like a child would clutch their stuffed animal. 

“Thanks for coming over. Even though I didn’t invite you.” 

Stiles smiled down at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “No problem. Happy to bother you any time.” 

The two sat in silence for a moment, their eyes trained on the screen, each taking alternating turns sipping from their respective bottles. (Y/N) was more comfortable than she probably should have been. Stiles on the other hand was far too warm, but he chalked that up to her leaning against him and the thick blanket he had draped across his lap. He began rubbing her arm with the tips of his fingers, smiling a bit to himself.

“Oh, no.” She huffed, recognizing the episode. Stiles fingers stopped moving instantly, worried she was bothered by his actions.

“What?” He asked, trying to sound uninterested, the wine making his voice a little higher. 

(Y/N) pointed at the screen. “This is one of the one’s where Rachel is pregnant with Emma.” She complained, reaching down for the remote. 

“What’s wrong with those?” Stiles asked, genuinely confused. 

(Y/N) sighed heavily, “they upset me.” She confessed to Stiles, taking a swig from her wine.

“Why?” Stiles asked, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

(Y/N) took a moment to respond, tapping the short nails of her right hand against the bottle making soft ‘tink’ sounds. “It just does,” she finally said.

Stiles made her sit up, turning so that he could face her. “No, seriously.” He said, pausing the episode. “Why does it make you sad, (Y/N)? I don’t get it? Do you really not like the fact that Ross and Rachel had a kid together? Cause, I mean yeah they weren’t the greatest couple on the show but it was inevitable.” 

She shook her head no.

“What is it then?” Stiles set his bottle down on the coffee table, moving the bowl of popcorn from between them. “Why does it make you sad?” 

(Y/N) finished her bottle off, setting it beside her one from earlier, her face feeling hot from the effects of the alcohol. “Cause I know that won’t be me. At least not for a long while, and I just. I dunno. It kinda hurts I guess, knowing that I’ll never have that experience. The love they share but try and ignore. The pregnancy she gets to experience. The wonderful little baby afterwards. It just makes me sad I guess. I want that, you know? But I won’t get it.” 

“You will.” Stiles disagreed, taking her hand in his, stroking the back of her hand in gentle circles with his thumb. 

“Maybe one day, but. I don’t wanna sit around waiting around for that bullshit. One failed relationship after another does not a happy future make, Stiles. Besides, it’s more than that! It’s the fact that they’re having that child together that upsets me. I’ve wanted to be a mom, always. I mean, I worked in the NICU straight out of college because I loved babies so much. You remember that?”   
Stiles nodded, “you’d call me all of the time crying because you couldn’t magically make the babies better. I remember.” (Y/N) would dial Stiles after every shift and spend the better part of their conversation telling him how heartbroken she was about any of the babies under her care, and he’d be sympathetic and listen, and would tell her they’d get better eventually. Most did. The ones she lost, however, broke her for days. 

Stiles was the eventual reason she left the NICU. He was tired of watching her break down every other day over one baby or another. He convinced her to join Melissa in the ER, where adult patients were easier for (Y/N) to lose than babies. Ultimately, she thanked him.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t remind me of the crying. It was terrible.” (Y/N) rubbed her forehead with the hand that Stiles wasn’t holding. “I just. I don’t know. I have just wanted my own for so long, you know?”    
Stiles nodded.

“And cause I haven’t found anyone, I haven’t been able to have one. And it sucks so much, dude.” (Y/N) whined, leaning her side against the couch. “It sucks cause, I don’t think I’m ever gonna find a guy out there that I like enough to  _ want _ to have a child with. You know? They’re all fucking morons, or they’re gross, or they don’t have genes I would want my child to have. You know?”

“I’m always impressed with your way with words when you’re drunk, (Y/N).” 

She smiled a little, “thank you. But! That isn’t the point.” She squeezed his hand. “I just know that I want a baby, and this stupid job takes so much of my time I can’t go out and find myself a man, Stiles! So.” She huffed loudly, dropping her hands to her thighs. “I’m just gonna go hook up with a stranger, risk it.”

Stiles shook his head, “that’s not gonna happen if I can help it.”

“Well! What do you suggest? Going to a sperm bank? Isn’t that exactly the same thing, but boring? Like I don’t want to have a baby with a turkey baster, Stiles.”

Stiles almost laughed at her. “I guess it is boring, but it takes the risk of hooking up with people you don’t know out of the mix. There’s STDs to consider.”

(Y/N) shrugged, “I don’t wanna go to a sperm bank. Fuck that. I wanna be able to experience the whole process of conception, pregnancy, birth, raising the baby. Etcetera, etcetera.”

Finishing off his bottle with a sigh, Stiles set it down on the coffee table and squeezed (Y/N)’s hand. “Then have a baby with me. Yeah, you’d have to sleep with me which is unfortunate I guess. However you’d get to experience everything, like you want.”

(Y/N) perked up, moving to sit on her knees, grabbing Stiles hand with her other one. “Are you serious? Cause this is a really big thing, Stiles. Like, huge. Forever. A lifetime thing.”

Stiles nodded, “I know. I know what having a child means, (Y/N). But, I’m kind of in the same boat as you are right now. No relationship, no relationship prospects. The two girls I’ve been ‘serious’ with are with other people. I don’t have time to find someone, and I don’t know when I will. I don’t want to waste my youth away at work and get too old to want a child, or for it to be fair to a kid. You know?”

(Y/N) nodded slowly.

“So, here we both are. We both want a baby, yeah? But neither of us have a significant other to bare that child with. So. Problem solved. We’ll have a baby together, and just. You know! Joint custody it, (Y/N). We can figure out a schedule that will work for us after it comes, and we’ll share Holidays, you and I spend them together anyway, so it won’t change much there. And I mean. I’m a decent guy, you like me alright. I like you, you know as a friend of course. You’re someone I’d approve of having a kid with. And I dunno. You said that you wanted someone good to have a baby with. You already know my family, you’ve known me for years. I’m clean health wise, and I’d be a good father. I hope… What would you say?”

(Y/N) stared at him for a moment, processing everything that he had said. “What?” She whispered, shaking her head, trying to process everything. “You? You want to have a baby?”

Stiles nodded, “yes. I’m 24 years old, (Y/N). I’m financially secure, I’ve got a good job. I have my own place. I’m ready for a child, (Y/N). And you want one, you’re telling me you do. Let’s just do it. You don’t want the sperm bank experience, so. I’m the next best option. The perks of a sperm bank, without the turkey baster quality. Plus, hey. You’ll probably get off, which. How wonderful for you? And… I dunno. You’d be doing me a huge favor in having my kid with me…”

(Y/N) laughed a little, “you’re serious?”

Stiles let her hand go, worried she was laughing at him for this idea. “I am.. I thought you were too, but…”

(Y/N) leaned forward then, pressing her lips to his in a kiss. “Let’s have a baby.” 

Stiles, who’s eyes shot open wide when she kissed him, took a second to recover before he could speak again. “Really? You mean that?” He asked. 

(Y/N) nodded, moving into Stiles lap to straddle him. “I mean that. Let’s Juno this bitch, but without adoption, of course.” (Y/N) said, grabbing Stiles face in her hands to pull him into another kiss.

He wound his arms around her waist, holding her flush against him. Finding his feet underneath him, he pushed the two of them up from the couch, carrying her into her bedroom.

The two rolled back and forth on the bed, unable to choose who got to be on top while they kissed and hurriedly removed their clothes. Stiles was struggling to pull his jeans off while (Y/N) was shimmying out of her underwear when she stopped abruptly, looking up at him. She started laughing then. “I was about to tell you there’s condoms in my nightstand, but. That’s kind of a moot point. It would sort of defeat the purpose of this.”

Stiles laughed, “yeah. It would. Unless you want to give me a test ride, I think we should probably skip the condom.”

(Y/N) covered her face with a hand as she laughed again, “please never call sex a test ride again or you’ll have to find someone else to get pregnant.”

Stiles smirked, “fair.” The two of them finally managed to get undressed, their lips attaching again. 


	2. The One With The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up the morning after, not hungover, and with more memory of what happened then probably good for him. You on the other hand, didn’t fair as lucky. The two end up having a difficult conversation, that resolves itself in an odd way.

Stiles yawned softly, snuggling closer to the body he held in his arms. His mind was beginning to wake up from his alcohol heavy slumber, and it was already feeling like he was going to be having an easier morning than he probably deserved. He could feel soreness on his neck, but didn’t dare move to feel why. 

The body in his hold stirred, and he halted his breathing, his eyes shut firmly. He wanted, desperately, for his bed companion to stay asleep. For her to keep herself unconscious for just  _ a little while longer _ so he could fully enjoy holding her. She settled against him more, her head heavy on the pillow they were sharing, and he began breathing normally. 

Though he had polished off two bottles of wine, he could still nearly remember the whole of last night. Of the way she tasted when they kissed (of cheap red wine, sweet vanilla buttercream and salt from popcorn), the way her chest rose and fell as she was underneath him. Stiles licked his lips at the thought of her underneath him, her eyes screwed shut and moans falling from her lips. 

He had to take in a deep breath to clear his mind, deciding it best to keep those thoughts out of his mind while his hips were pressed against her. He imagined something coming up would be awkward.

(Y/N) began to rouse again, and he was sure this time she would wake up. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, and nuzzled his face against her neck, getting more comfortable.   
“Morning,” he heard (Y/N) whisper more to herself than to him. He dared to open his eyes a crack, peeking at her as she moved around on the bed. Her hands had come up and were covering her face, the balls of her palms grinding against her eyes. “I fucking hate getting up.” She declared, squirming a bit to get more comfortable on the bed. 

“I know,” Stiles nearly yawned out. He loosened his hold on her to make it easier for her to move around, making sure to still keep her pressed against him though. She was the only thing keeping him warm, the sheet and comforter having been kicked off onto the floor at some point in the night.

The two of them laid together in (Y/N)’s bed for a few beats before (Y/N) came to a sudden realization. “Oh, God!” She nearly shouted, scrambling away from Stiles, who was now wide eyed and alert.

“What? What?” He asked, pushing himself up to look at her. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

She shook her head a little bit, staring at him. “You’re naked.” She nodded to him, her eyes flitting from his face to his thighs, back to his face. 

He nodded, covering his crotch with his hands. “You are too,” he acknowledged. (Y/N) looked down at herself and huffed, reaching over the edge of the bed, finding the first shirt available and tugging it on. 

“There, now I’m not.” 

“That’s my shirt,” Stiles pointed out. “How am I supposed to get not naked if you’re wearing my clothes?”

“I’m not concerned about your  _ chest _ , Stiles.” (Y/N) said, narrowing her eyes. “It’s your pecker that’s a problem with me.”

“Wasn’t last night.” Stiles mumbled, standing from the bed, keeping his crotch cupped by his hand. “Let me just…” He walked around the end of the bed, finding his boxer-briefs still inside of his jeans. He shook them out and quickly stepped into them. “There. Now my  _ pecker _ isn’t a problem, (Y/N).” He took a seat on the bed again, rubbing his face with his hands, trying to whisk away the last traces of sleep that were clouding his mind. “You don’t remember last night, do you?” 

(Y/N) sighed, “no. I remember  _ most  _ of last night, Stiles. I just figured that I wouldn’t wake up with you naked in my bed.”

“You fell asleep on me last night after…” Stiles sighed. “I didn’t have a chance to get up and get dressed, ‘cause I fell asleep shortly afterwards myself. Sorry. I’ll get dressed and head out if you want?” 

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head. “No, I’m not gonna kick you out. You’re not a one night stand, Stilinski. Well, in the sense that you’ve got to hurry out in the morning.”    
“Oh, thank you. I love being an almost one night stand.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pushing up from the bed. “So, we fucked huh?”   
“Memorably, clearly.” 

(Y/N) made a face at him that was half annoyance, half sorry. “I remember some of it, Stiles. I remember watching Santa Clarita Diet, and I remember drinking so much wine.. Too much wine. And I remember bits and pieces of, us… I was saying ‘we fucked huh’ as an opening to discuss what the fuck we were thinking last night.”

“You were thinking a lot of things. Where should I start?”

“Maybe at what spurred us to have sex?”

Stiles danced his fingers together, his lips pursed into a thin line, trying hard to think of how to phrase what happened so it didn’t sound as weird as it was. “Well. We were in the middle of watching  _ Friends,  _ right? Right. And suddenly you were upset, so we were talking. You were telling me how you wanted a relationship, but not really. You were also telling me how you wanted a baby.” Stiles cleared his throat, crossing his legs underneath him. (Y/N) was staring at him with an eyebrow raised. “You were super serious about it too. I’m talking you were going to go start screwing strangers serious.”

(Y/N) gasped, “I would never!”

Stiles shrugged, “I don’t know. Weirder things have happened.” He moved his hand back and forth between them. “Anyway, one thing lead to another and the next I know we’re agreeing to have a baby together.” 

“What?”

Stiles shrugged again, letting his shoulders slump forward afterwards. “Yeah.” He didn’t know what else to say, and suddenly his throat felt really dry. “In our defense we were really drunk… We aren’t ever the best decision makers when we’ve been drinking, should we remember when you stole from Derek?” 

(Y/N) set her jaw, “no. We never talk about that anymore, Stiles. You know better than that.” 

Stiles smirked a little, his mouth pulling back on the corner. “Well, still. We aren’t ever the best thinkers when we have alcohol in us. Staying true to ourselves, we made a rash and rushed decision while we were wasted. That decision being that you and I were gonna have a kid. We thought it was wonderful last night, and got working on it right away. As you know by remembering that we had sex.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) furrowed her brows. “You didn’t?”

“Nope.” Stiles shook his head, knowing she was asking about condoms or not. “You almost mentioned I should, but remembered our whole  _ stupid _ plan, and then decided against that.”

(Y/N) widened her eyes a bit in shock, “Goddamn it!” She nearly shrieked. “How could we do something like that?”

“Well, (Y/N). You see, when two people-”

She glared at him, pointing her index finger in his direction. “Stiles, I swear to God. You give me some sex talk and I’ll break your neck.”

Stiles closed his mouth, flexing and unflexing his fingers on his thigh. “I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He sounded genuinely sorry, sadness evident in his tone. (Y/N)’s expression softened.    
“It’s not just your fault, I’m sure, Stiles. I’m sorry too.” (Y/N) stood from the bed, shimmying into her discarded pair of underwear. “We should maybe go get plan B or something, then? Shouldn’t we? Just in case?”

Stiles’ face fell, but he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, sure. I mean. Wouldn’t wanna risk you actually getting pregnant, right?” 

(Y/N) sighed, “right.”

Stiles stood from the bed then, pulling on his jeans. He was getting the zipper pulled up when he sighed, turning to look at her. “You know. Maybe you don’t remember what we talked about, and that’s cool but. If it counts at all, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a kid. And I don’t think you were either. So, yeah maybe you regret it now but. At the time I think we probably thought it really was a good idea. You know? And I dunno. I would’ve been happy to raise a child with you.”

(Y/N), pulling Stiles shirt off, sighed. “I was serious, too, Stiles. Probably. I mean, I do want a child but. Not like this. Not over a drunken plan with my best friend.” She held out her shirt to him, frowning as she did. 

“You know, for the record, which I’ve said too many times today… You were the one who basically came up with this idea.” 

(Y/N) frowned, “sorry Stiles.”

 

 

The two wound their way through the aisles of the Walgreens down the street from (Y/N)’s apartment, wearing the clothes they’d been wearing yesterday. Their hair was messy from sex and sleep, and they both could use a shower. (Y/N) had spent the entire walk thinking about the events of the last twenty-four hours. Stiles spent the entire walk thinking of what could have been. 

“Where the hell could it possibly be hiding?” Stiles whined as they looked down the rows at everything. 

“I dunno,” (Y/N) sighed. The two reached an isle that was lined with condoms, pregnancy tests, and - “Aha!” (Y/N) called, grabbing Stiles by the elbow, yanking him down the aisle. Stopping at a glass case, she grunted. “Are you serious?”

“People steal, (Y/N). It’s a bad, bad world out there. Stores have got to protect their expensive merchandise.”

“Shut up,” she sighed. “Can you just go find someone who works here, please? So they can unlock this stupid case and we can get the hell out of here?” 

Stiles nodded, “yeah. Sure, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) watched Stiles walk off, turning her attention to the boxes behind the glass, reading them over. As much as she tried, she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering a bit as she stared at the colorful cardboard. Her eyes would roam over to the right where even more colorful cardboard sat.  _ Pregnancy tests _ . 

(Y/N) shuddered a bit, thinking of having to buy one of them. She realized, then, that she would be crushed to have to take one that turned out negative. Which, she would do as way of confirmation that the pill worked a few weeks after taking it, just to be sure. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, walking up to her, causing her to jump a bit. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “They’re short staffed today according to the little old lady that was in here yesterday watching me stare at popcorn for too long.” He sighed. “She’ll come over as soon as she’s done with her check out line.” 

(Y/N) nodded, biting on her bottom lip as she crossed her arms over herself. “Right.” She didn’t bother turning her head to look at Stiles as she spoke. “You really want a baby?” She asked, tilting her head to the side a little bit, reading over one of the boxes for the ninth time. 

“Yes?” Stiles said in a drawn out way, clearing his throat. “I do? Don’t worry about it, I can wait clearly.” He stepped closer to her, looking over the boxes. “What about that one?” He asked pressing his finger to the glass to show which box he was referring to. “It looks trustworthy to do the job. You don’t have to worry about paying, I’ve got it.”

“What about none?” (Y/N) asked, turning finally to look up at him. “I’ve been standing here for a while, waiting for you to get an associate, and. I’ve been thinking. I really do want a baby, and I have for a while. You know?” Stiles nodded.

“And you would be a good father.”    
“I would?”

She sighed, “what if our drunken agreement just became like…  _ the agreement _ ?”    
Stiles eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

“Well,” (Y/N) pushed on his arm to get him to walk away from the display case. She began leading him out of the aisle and towards another. “We’re not getting any younger. Right? And you’ve got your life figured out, don’t you?” Stiles nodded. “I’ve got mine mostly put together, and I’m happy where I am. We’re basically like family anyway, aren’t we?”   
“We are?”   
“So, lets just do it, Stiles.”    
He shook his head, “you’re not serious?”

“I am.” She said, stopping the two of them in the liquor aisle. She picked up a bottle of vodka, holding it out to him. “Say you will.”    
“Will what?” 

“Get me pregnant.” 

Stiles widened his eyes, stammering a bit before taking the bottle from her. “I will. Say you will.”

“Will what?”   
“Have a baby with me.” 

“I will,” (Y/N) said with a smile.

Stiles pulled her into a hug, holding her around the shoulders to press her against him. “Thank you, (Y/N).” He said with a smile, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.    
“Thank you too, Stiles.” 

He let her go, looking down at the vodka bottle. “What’s this for though?”

“How else do you expect me to end up in bed with you?” (Y/N) asked with a wink, heading down to find juice. 

“If I remember right you seemed to enjoy it just fine last night.” 

(Y/N) let out a loud laugh, holding up two bottles of juice. “I was also drunk last night, Stilinski. I would’ve liked anyone. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Stiles pointed at one of the two juice options, trying not to smile. “You’re looking to do it again, though. Could just have faith that the first time took and leave it there.”

(Y/N) set the other bottle down, “where’s the fun in that?” 

“So you admit it was fun, then?” Stiles asked, taking the juice they chose from her, holding it under his arm, the bottle of vodka firmly gripped in his hand.    
“Would it make your day if I said yes?”

Stiles nodded.   
“Then no.” (Y/N) winked, poking his ribs playfully, heading for the checkout counter. “Let’s just hope that I don’t put myself through this for nothing.”

“Through what?”

“Sleeping with you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, setting the items down. “Let’s just stop pretending like you don’t want to.”

(Y/N) made a face, mocking him a bit. She smacked his hand away, offering her ID and debit card to the woman at the register. “Thank you.” She said, taking the bag from the woman. The two walked out, (Y/N) holding the bag out to Stiles to carry. 

“You know,” (Y/N) hooked her arm around Stiles arm, leaning against him a little. “I’m remembering more and more of what happened last night. Are you sure you even slept with me? Cause, I don’t think I remember feeling anything?”

“Ouch,” Stiles groaned. “You’re in a particularly rude mood today.” 

“Hate sex is the best kind of sex, Stiles. Just tryna get you mad.” She struggled not to laugh. “Since we’re trying to conceive should I start calling you daddy in bed? Really get you in the right head space?”

He choked on his own saliva, stopping in his tracks. “Would you  _ stop? _ ” He asked, cheeks flushed. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t already know.” 

Stiles shook his head, taking a deep breath, starting to walk again. “I know the thought of sleeping with me while sober is truly disgusting (Y/N), but. I read an article once, I think, that was discussing a study that showed alcohol use can actually lower your chances of conceiving.” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, raising her eyebrows. “Really? You know, I think I read that in one of my medical journals somewhere. Maybe we should scrap the vodka today, just. Go at it uninhibited.” 

Stiles shrugged, “your choice.” 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to remember every second of today’s suffering.” 

 

 

Stiles kicked his shoes off by the door while (Y/N) removed her jacket, watching her walk further into her apartment. “Should I make us breakfast or something? I’m sure you’ve got  _ something _ in your kitchen I can throw together as actual meal.” 

“No, Stiles. I think I wanna get another round in before I make you leave and order too much Chinese food for one person.”

“Another round?” 

“Think about it.” (Y/N) muttered, putting her cell phone on the charger by her couch. 

“OH!” Stiles made a mock shocked face at her. “(Y/N), I can’t believe you.”   
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you can, Stiles. So.” She rest her hands on her hips, looking him over. “How do we start all of this?” She indicated towards him with her chin. 

Stiles took a deep breath, resting his hands on his hips as well, mimicking her stance. “Well, (Y/N). Generally we get undressed, either on our own or with each others help. But that’s if you’re feeling particularly inclined, and usually that’s done while sloppily kissing. That’s often times followed by foreplay before -” 

(Y/N) groaned loudly, “you knew what I meant Stiles! I know how to have sex, you dickhead! It hasn’t even been 12 hours since the last time!”

Stiles licked his lips, smiling a little. “Well, then why’d you ask how we start it?” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, “I don’t know how you go about fucking your best friend for no other purpose than to have a child with him.”

“How’s this?” Stiles closed the space between them, grabbing her hard by her hips, pulling her flush against him. One hand stayed on her hips while the other went to cup her cheek, their lips pressing together in a firm kiss. 

(Y/N) pulled away from the kiss, keeping her body against his. “A solid start, I’d think.” 

Stiles chuckled and released her hip and cheek, reaching down to pick her up by her thighs, attaching his lips to hers, carrying her towards the bed again. “Deja vu.” He muttered when he set her down on the edge of the bed. 

“Mhmm,” (Y/N) said, already busying herself with getting his jeans unbottoned. “Lets not do that thing where you talk a lot.” 

Stiles went to retort but felt her hand reach into his boxers, and suddenly he forgot what words were.


	3. The One With The Pregnancy Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to surprise reader at work, and the two end up getting a surprise of a different kind.

Patients were steadily coming in and out of the ER, staff being kept on their toes as they worked to keep everyone happy and keep things moving. (Y/N), however, was falling short. She’d been sick for days, which she chalked up to catching the stomach flu from a patient that she’d been helping around the time she got sick. She was luckily not running a fever as she sat in a chair behind the desk of the nurses station, chewing on a saltine.    
Melissa rounded the desk, giving her a soft smile. “Hey, sweetie. How’re you feeling?” Melissa asked, looking (Y/N) over. (Y/N) shrugged her shoulder, setting the cracker back down in the plastic saltine sleeve. 

“I’m feeling alright,” she sat forward and made a face. “Scratch that, I lied. I feel like every time I move I’m going to shoot chunks.”    
Melissa nodded, “go home.” She picked up (Y/N)’s sleeve of crackers, shoving it into her hand. “Go home, drink lots of fluids, and rest. I don’t want to see your butt back here until you’re feeling better. It’d be your luck, you’d get sick suddenly, and puke on a patient.” 

(Y/N) widened her eyes, “Melissa! I would never.” She stood from her chair slowly and rubbed her forehead. “It’s just a little stomach flu. I’m fine.”   
“Yeah, but it’s lasted a good long while. I don’t think that’s what it is anymore, (Y/N). Maybe something you’re eating is messing with you. Do you have something every day?”    
(Y/N) thought for a moment, shaking her head. “Just coffee? Though, I have had that every day for years. It wouldn’t just start to affect me  _ now _ .”   
Melissa nodded, furrowing her brows. “What else is wrong?”    
“Just the vomiting, really. And God, even when I drink my weight in coffee, I’m still exhausted. I’ve contemplated taking a shot of adrenaline and just, suffering.” 

Melissa gave (Y/N) a shrug, taking her arm while the two walked away from the nurses station towards the nurses locker room. “Could the fatigue be part of your PMS? I know you always get worn down easily when you’re about to drop.” 

(Y/N) stopped abruptly, eyes widening. “Oh, fuck.” 

“What?” Melissa asked with evident concern in her voice. “Do you need a bucket?” 

(Y/N) shook her head. “No, I just.. Felt like I was going to, it’s passed. I can get the rest of the way there on my own, Melissa. Thank you for your concern. I’m off tomorrow, right?”   
Melissa nodded.   
“Perfect, I’ll see you the day after then, hopefully feeling as good as new. And, you know what? Maybe it’s this stupid new popfetti popcorn I’ve been addicted to that’s doing it? It’s probably too sweet for me, and it’s upsetting my stomach and causing me to be sluggish.”   
Melissa chuckled, “maybe. I’d stop eating it anyway, sounds like it’s terrible.”    
(Y/N) shrugged, giving Melissa a small smile before hurrying into the locker room. She took her stethoscope off of her neck, flinging it into her locker the moment she got it open. She was starting to get panicked, her mind running faster than she wanted. 

_ Calm down!  _ (Y/N) ordered herself as she pulled her scrub shirt off over her head. She took a few deep breathes,  _ “ _ don’t get yourself worked up over this. It could just be a bunch of weird coincidences. Don’t go getting your hopes up, (Y/N). You’ve got to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” Stiles asked from behind her. (Y/N) whirled around to face him, clutching her chest in fright. 

“Jesus Christ, Stiles! What the fuck are you doing in here? This is the  _ female nurses locker room _ .” She waved her hand around, indicating the locker room. “Seeing as how you’re not a chick, and you’re not a nurse, you shouldn’t be in here.” She looked down, huffing. “Or at least turn around, I’m not wearing a shirt!” She reached into her locker to grab her regular shirt, holding it against her. 

“Oh, would you relax?” Stiles asked, taking a seat on the bench between the lockers. “There’s no one else in here, and I’ve seen you naked before. Should we recount two days ago?” He wriggled his eyebrows at her and she slapped him in the face with her shirt. 

“Why are you here, Stiles?”    
“I was going to bring you soup for your stomach. You said you weren’t feeling well yesterday, figured you still weren’t.”    
“I hate soup.” (Y/N) sighed. 

“That’s why I said I  _ was _ going to. Instead I settled on lightly buttered toast, and ramen noodles, cause it’s soup like. Salty as hell, but. I figured you’d be okay with that.” 

(Y/N) pulled her shirt on over her head, kicking her work shoes off. “You did not have to do that, Stiles. That was really sweet of you, thank you”

Stiles gave her his signature smug smile, “you’re welcome. Gotta take care of my future baby mama, don’t I?” 

“And you ruined it. You’re excellent at that you know? Ruining a sweet moment by opening your stupid mouth. You should write a book, ‘how to kill the mood in 10 words or less’ by Stiles Stilinski.” 

“Ouch,” Stiles said, standing up from his seat on the bench. “You can starve now, (Y/N). Last time I try being nice to you.” He began slowly walking back to the door, intending on leaving the locker room.

Smiling, (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders. “Fine by me. I wasn’t gonna eat your gross, probably soggy ramen anyway.” 

Stiles scoffed, turning around to look at (Y/N) as she was shimmying her scrub pants off. He took a deep inhale, watching her for a second before his brain caught up. “First of all, (Y/N), my ramen is not anywhere close to soggy. I know how to make it, we’ve had enough fights where you took over cooking them for me to know how you like it. Secondly, you weren’t calling my mouth stupid when it was between your thighs.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to snap a comeback at him, instead going wide eyed, spinning on her heels to the large wash bin sink beside her locker. She gripped the edge, leaned over, and released the contents of her stomach, her throat feeling raw when she was done. 

Stiles had quickly crossed the room to hold her hair back as she retched into the sink, his free hand rubbing small circles into her lower back. (Y/N) stayed hunched over the sink for a moment, making sure that she was done for the time being, before standing. Stiles released her hair and reached into her locker, grabbing her water bottle. 

“I didn’t know that me talking about eating you out was gonna make you that sick, I’m sorry.” He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck while looking down at his feet.

(Y/N) snorted a laugh, shaking her head at him, taking a few small sips from her water bottle. “It wasn’t your comment, Stiles. You doing that was wonderful, and I’m pleased to know we have a use for your stupid mouth. The puking was all me. I’ve been sick, remember? Welcome to what I’ve been dealing with for days.”

“You seem… fine now? You just look a little sweaty if anything, and like you’re about to pass out.” 

(Y/N) shrugged, “thanks?” 

Stiles gave her a soft smile, turning the water on to wash the sink out, not wanting the smell to make her sick all over again. “So, you think I’m wonderful, huh?” 

(Y/N), having realized her mistake, shook her head adamantly. “No, you’re not. I was just trying to be nice since you had to witness me puking.” She pulled her leggings on before reaching into her locker, quickly finding her toiletries bag. She dug around in it before she found her toothbrush and toothpaste. She wet her toothbrush at the sink and began brushing her teeth, leaning her hip against the sink.

“Why do you think you’re sick? Should I head out and get you something after I get you home? An anti-nausea medicine or something?”

(Y/N) shook her head, spitting into the sink. She rinsed her mouth and toothbrush before shutting the water off. “No, I don’t think that this is anything that simple medicine could fix.”

“Oh?” Stiles took her purse from the locker before moving out of the way for her to shut it, letting her slip her feet into a pair of flip flops before offering her purse out to her. “What do you think it is?” He asked, figuring she’d self diagnosed again like usual.

“I think we’ll talk about it on the way back to my place.” (Y/N) pulled her purse onto her shoulder walking out of the locker room, knowing Stiles would automatically follow her.

 

(Y/N) walked out of the bathroom in her apartment, wiping at the corners of her mouth with the sleeve of the hoodie she wore. “Would you please not use my jacket as a puke napkin?” Stiles asked, looking over at her. “Feeling okay? You haven’t puked in a bit, I was almost sure you were better.” 

(Y/N) ignored him, walking for the front door, slipping her feet back into the flipflops she’d kicked off when she’d gotten home. She grabbed her keys off of the hook beside the door. “You coming?” She asked, holding the door open. Stiles scrambled off of the couch, hurrying for the front door. He went to hook his arm around her shoulders after she locked the door, a bit taken back when she began speed walking for the stairs down. 

“Alright,” Stiles said, hurrying after her. He took the stairs two at a time, keeping his hand on the railing to make sure he doesn’t fall. “Is there something in particular that’s lit this fire under your ass, (Y/N)?” 

Continuing to ignore him, she reached the first floor, heading straight for the door to leave the apartment building. She threw it open, taking a right when she walked out, hurrying down the sidewalk. 

“(Y/N)!” Stiles called, following after her. “Would you mind slowing down? You know for someone who was just throwing up, I would expect you to not move as quickly.”    
(Y/N) reached the Walgreens walking in as soon as the automatic door allowed her to. Stiles walked in after her, managing to keep easy pace with her now that she slowed down. “(Y/N)! Would you please tell me what the fuck is going on?”

She stopped abruptly in an aisle and he had to keep himself from crashing against her. “You know I hate being ignored, (Y/N). This is honestly about to drive me insane. Would you please ju-” 

(Y/N) reached up and grabbed his jaw in her hand, turning his head to look at the shelves in front of them. “Oh.” He nodded, feeling her release his jaw. He looked over the boxes for a moment before actually processing why they were there. “OH!” He shouted, looking over at her. “(Y/N)! You think that-... That you-...” 

She nodded, giving him an angry look. “Yes, now would you shut the fuck up? Jesus, you’re being loud right now.”

Stiles grumbled, “sounds like what I have to say to you at night.” 

She elbowed him in the ribs, returning her attention to the selection of pregnancy tests. She took her time reading them over, deciding on three different brands. “Is that all?” Stiles asked, looking at the three boxes that (Y/N) had shoved into his arms. “Might as well grab a fourth, why do an uneven number?” He asked, looking up at her. 

(Y/N) looked less than amused, “does it matter how many I take, Stiles? Really?” 

He shook his head, deciding to keep his mouth shut and just follow her to the register. He set the boxes on the counter, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. “Do you want anything else while we’re here because I don’t think we’ll be leaving again tonight. Maybe more crackers?” 

(Y/N) shook her head, “no.” She took the bag from the woman and walked out as soon as Stiles had paid. The two made their way back to (Y/N)’s apartment without speaking to each other, the bag in (Y/N)’s hand felt particularly heavy.

Stiles’ mind was racing at a million miles per minute. He knew that if those little sticks in those unassuming boxes came back positive, his life would be instantaneously changed. He’d go from just being Stiles Stilinski, the exceptional FBI profiler, to Stiles Stilinski the soon-to-be father. 

He began thinking about how he would be connected to (Y/N) forever after this, how she was forever going to go from just being his best friend to being the mother of his child. He concerned himself with if he would be a good father, if the two of them were making a huge mistake. If (Y/N) would back out, if she would realize that this idea was absolutely insane, if she would want an abortion. He wouldn’t fight her on that, it was her body that would be carrying their child after all, but -

Stiles snapped out of his thoughts when she cursed loudly, fiddling with the keys in her hand. Stiles took her hand in his, giving her a reassuring smile before finding her house key, unlocking her front door. He could practically see the anxiety rolling off of her in waves. The two entered the apartment, and she rushed straight for the bathroom. “Puking?” Stiles called out, ready to offer to hold her hair or get her a glass of water.

She shook her head, not bothering to respond as she slammed the door behind her. Stiles nodded, biting on his lips. “Right.” He took a seat on the couch, resting his elbows on his thighs and his chin on his hand, his knees bouncing nervously. He looked back at the bathroom and felt his stomach do a flip, considering if maybe he was going to be sick instead of (Y/N). 

The bathroom door opened and Stiles shot to his feet, feeling like he suddenly couldn’t breathe. He took a few shallow breaths, giving her his attention. “So,” Stiles prompted, gripping his fist with his other hand. “What did they say?” 

She held up her phone, “they said wait five minutes for the piss to marinate or something so. We’ll find out in roughly four minutes.”

Stiles nodded, a lump in his throat big enough to choke him. The two sat together on the couch, neither speaking, staring straight ahead at the black television screen. When (Y/N)’s phone went off the pair shot to their feet, eyes wide and hearts pounding. “I guess that’s my cue..” (Y/N) indicated towards the bathroom with her thumb, clearing her throat. “I’ll be right back.” 

Stiles nodded, not wanting to speak at this point. (Y/N) bit on her lips, walking off to the bathroom. Stiles began pacing around her living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He’d been through so much, more than any twenty something should ever have witnessed. But this. The anticipation of finding out if (Y/N) was pregnant or not. This might have been the scariest thing he’d ever experienced. 

He stopped pacing the second he heard the bathroom door open, watching (Y/N) walk out with her head hung low. His heart dropped to his knees, he felt like it stopped. “(Y/N)…” He whispered, quickly making his way over to her. 

(Y/N) wound her arms around his ribs, resting her head against his chest. He could feel a spot of wetness bloom against his chest where her cheek rest. He wrapped his arms around her, beginning to rub her back gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Please, stop crying. I - I don’t know what to say. Fuck, I’m sorry. We don’t have to keep trying. I don’t want you having to go through this again.” Stiles assured her, assuming that the test had come back negative. 

(Y/N) kept her cheek pressed against his chest, unable to speak yet, tears still pouring down her cheeks. 

“You’re gonna be okay, (Y/N).” Stiles said as way of reassurance. “I know that you wanted this, or, fuck I hope you wanted to be pregnant because if not that would have just been a lot of trying without you mentioning it wasn’t what you wanted. However, it’s okay. So it didn’t happen. It’s cool, it’s fine. We could I dunno, we could keep trying, it’s not like it isn’t fun. Or, I know you’re not a fan but… Doctors really do know a lot, you know? And I mean. Yeah it’s a turkey baster, but it’s got better chances doesn’t it? I’m sure there’s more of an assuran-” He stopped talking, taking a seat on the couch, feeling like he was about to have a panic attack. His heart was back to pounding. He didn’t realize how badly he had actually wanted this baby. How much he had actually thought about it. How badly he wanted to raise his own child, watch it grow. And he thought, God, he thought he was so fucking close. He could practically see his son or daughter staring up at him. Now, that future. That image he had of his happy family was wiped away from him. In the matter of four, eternally long minutes. 

(Y/N) looked down at him in confusion, “Stiles…” She held out a test, waiting for him to take it before wrapping her arms around herself. Stiles took a deep breath, turning the stick over to look at the little window, preparing himself mentally for the new wave of disappointment. 

One pink line, standing boldly out against the white background.

And another.

He looked from the lines up to (Y/N) before looking back at them, trying to make sure he had interpreted them right. “(Y/N),” he held the test up a bit. “(Y/N), please. I’m begging you. Please tell me this is what I think it is. Please tell me this is positive. God, please let this be positive.” 

(Y/N) nodded, biting on her lips to keep from beaming too bright of a smile, “that one  _ and _ the two others on the counter in the bathroom.” 

Stiles felt his eyes well, sitting up on the couch to be able to reach out and grab her, pulling her against him, pressing his face against her stomach. Stiles let out a breathy laugh, kissing her stomach softly, his fingers splayed on her back, holding her as close to him as he could. “I can’t - I don’t -.” He closed his mouth, words failing him. (Y/N) began combing her fingers through his hair, letting him hold her to him. In that moment, (Y/N) realized there wasn’t anyone else she’d rather share this with. Stiles pressed another kiss to her stomach, and she felt a wider smile spread across her lips. 

“God, you’re actually pregnant.” Stiles said, but it felt more like a question. “God, you’re pregnant. We did it.. Thank you.” He stood then, and (Y/N) felt what she figured was her heart skipping a beat when she saw the smile on Stiles’ face. In all of the years she had known him, she had never seen him look happier.

“I am.” She assured him, returning his smile. 

“I just -, I…” Stiles reached out, cupping (Y/N)’s cheeks in his hands, pulling her into a kiss. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment before reaching up, winding her arms around Stiles’ neck, pressing her body against his. He moved his hands from her cheeks to her hips, gripping them tight before his hands moved to her back, pressing her tighter against him. 

(Y/N) broke the kiss for a breath, leaning back a little to look at him. “Thank you, Stiles.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “Thank you, (Y/N). For being my best friend, for accepting this crazy agreement, and for not backing out.” 

(Y/N) smiled, “we’re in this for the long haul, punk.”

Stiles returned her smile warmly, “so. You’re happy, with this? With being pregnant? It’s not too late, you know…”

(Y/N) let go of Stiles, shaking her head. “Stiles, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this baby with you. I’m in if you’re in. Forever.” 

Stiles held his pinky out to her, “forever.” 

She looked at his pinky, rolling her eyes a little. “Stiles, come on. We’re not kids anymore. I’m carrying one, but that doesn’t mean I’ve regressed to being fifteen. We don’t make pinky promises anymore.”    
Stiles nearly pouted, keeping his pinky up. “Come on, (Y/N). What’s it going to hurt? You used to do them all of the time with me in high school, and neither of us have broken one since. Might as well make another one regarding our baby.” 

(Y/N) sighed, deciding to acquiesce. 

The two locked pinkies, each kissing their thumbs to seal the promise. 


	4. The One With The Dad Upgrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) and Stiles decide to tell the very first person that they’re having a baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all! I was stuck on this here chapter for like, I would like to say a month. A month. For some reason I could not write this. It took sitting there and watching Teen Wolf with my Grandma to /finally/ get inspired to write this fic. It came together in like, 2 hours and it’s ight. I hope you like it! (-:

(Y/N) stood beside Stiles at the grocery store, looking over his shoulder at the grocery list. “Do we really want to make asparagus?” She asked, looking from the list to the vegetables on display.   
“Yes,” Stiles sighed. “Have you ever had my grilled asparagus? It’s heavenly. And it’s healthy, would you stop being anti-vegetable?” 

(Y/N) groaned, “I’m not anti-vegetable, Stiles. I just don’t particularly want asparagus. It’s not a bad thing, and I’m not discrediting you as a chef. It’s just not my favorite.”   
“Then don’t eat it.” He shrugged, grabbing two small bags of asparagus. “Lydia, Scott, Malia and my dad all love it so. We have to do it.”

(Y/N) huffed loudly, gripping onto the handle of the shopping cart tighter. “Okay. So. We have your gross asparagus, steak, mashed potatoes, and what else? I’m going to make sautéed onions and mushrooms for the steak. What should I make for dessert?”

Stiles shrugged, “dunno. I’m not in charge of the dessert, that’s your area (Y/N). I’m just here for the whole dinner thing. Make like. I don’t know? Cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes are boring.” (Y/N) sighed, pushing the cart behind Stiles. “God. I hate grocery shopping. Have I ever mentioned that?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, stopping abruptly in front of the meat section. (Y/N) accidentally hit him with the cart, gasping in shock. “I am so sorry!” 

Stiles turned a glare on her, rubbing his hip where the cart hit. “I’m sure you aren’t.”

(Y/N) returned his glare, “what is that supposed to mean?”

Stiles ignored her, picking up a package of fillets. “These look good?” He held the package up for her to see. 

“I’m serious! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you probably meant to hit me, (Y/N). I know how you get. You’ve been snippy with me for hours, and maybe it wasn’t conscious but you meant to hit me.”

(Y/N) flared her nostrils in anger, “I would  _ never _ . I’ve been snippy because you made me go buy new dishes from one store. Then you made me get a new table cloth from a second store. Now we’re here for food. And I’m going to have to cook and bake for a dozen people. I’m tired, Stiles. That’s all. I wouldn’t hit my baby daddy.”

Stiles sighed, “sorry. I’m nervous to tell everyone, and it’s coming out in obsessing over everything being perfect. I’m sorry. Won’t happen anymore. Want me to drop you back at your apartment and I can handle this all on my own?”

(Y/N) shook her head, pouting a bit, her eyes lowering to her hands. “No… I don’t want you stressing all on your own, Stiles. I just… I want you to know I’m not being a bitch on purpose. You know how I get when I’m tired.”

Stiles sighed, dropping the fillets back to their spot, rounding the shopping cart to pull (Y/N) into a hug. “Yeah, I do.” He took a deep breath, gently rubbing her back. “Go take a nap in the car, yeah? I can finish the shopping - I know what we need - and when I come out you can drive us to your place. That way I can rest on the way there. That sound like a deal?” 

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her head resting against Stiles chest. “Okay, thank you.” 

The two stood together for a moment, Stiles just rubbing (Y/N)’s back while she rest against him, before (Y/N) decided to pull away. “I should go lay down.” 

Stiles nodded, fishing the keys to his car out of his pocket. “I’ll be out as soon as possible. Okay?”

“Sure.” (Y/N) picked her purse up from the child seat in the cart, took the keys, and walked out of the store. 

 

(Y/N) woke to Stiles picking her up from the back seat of his car. She peeked an eye open, and quickly shut it again, allowing Stiles to carry her inside of his home. When he got her settled on the couch, she decided to pretend to wake up, stretching her limbs out. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles rushed out. “I didn’t mean to wake you! You can go back to sleep.” He picked up the blanket from the back of the couch, covering her up before she could protest.  

“I should be in there helping you make dinner,” (Y/N) started, pushing the blanket off of her waist down to her thighs. 

“Nope!” Stiles covered her back up again, resting a hand on her shoulder to keep her laying down. “You can sleep. I’ve got this covered. I know how to cook, (Y/N). Besides, you’d just get annoyed by me and come out here anyway.”

“I would not!” (Y/N) argued. 

Stiles gave her a knowing look, and she acquiesced, getting comfortable against the pillows on the couch. “Fine. I’ll lay here.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and grunted when Stiles leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t do that shit, Stiles. I don’t know you like that.”  

“(Y/N),” Stiles sighed. “You’re carrying my baby. You know me well enough to let me kiss your forehead.” 

(Y/N) mocked him, rolling onto her side so that she had her back to him. “Go cook, Stiles, before I ‘accidentally’ fall down the stairs and I’m not carrying your child any more.” 

“(Y/N).” Stiles sounded hurt. “Please don’t joke about that. Knowing how clutzy you are, it wouldn’t surprise me if you managed to do just that on a real accident. Let’s not jinx anything, yeah?” 

(Y/N) frowned, not turning to face him. “Fine, Stiles. Sorry. Go cook.” 

Sighing, Stiles walked away from the couch, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Unlike (Y/N), he hadn’t had the luxury of napping because his baby daddy was nice. “My father will be here soon,” he called from the kitchen, his head inside of the fridge while he reorganized the vegetables in the crisper. “I want to tell him before everyone so he’s gonna be here before the rest of them arrive.”

(Y/N) grunted her response, pulling the blanket Stiles had covered her with up, over her shoulder up to her ear. 

“You’re going to have to wake up when he gets here, I just realized, cause. You’ve got to share this news too. It’s _our_  news, not just mine. And it would take the fun out of it if I just told him myself and you weren’t involved.”

(Y/N) groaned this time, scrunching her eyes tighter. 

Stiles continued rambling, speaking of various things that (Y/N) had tuned out while she tried sleeping. The doorbell going off startled her, her heart jumping a bit. She sat up in time to watch Stiles nearly trip over his own feet as he came running out of the kitchen, headed for the front door. “I got it!” he called to her, stopping abruptly and grabbing at the doorknob. 

“I’m glad.” She huffed, standing from couch. She made a half hearted attempt at folding the blanket she had just been covered with, draping it once more over the back of the couch. 

Stiles greeted his father with an excited ‘ _ hello’,  _ hugging his old man tight. The two Stilinski men walked into the house together, Stiles offering to take his fathers jacket from him. Sheriff Noah Stilinski shrugged the jacket off of his shoulders, offering it to his son who promptly hung it on a hook beside the door.

“Oh, hello (Y/N).” The sheriff greeted with a warm smile, crossing to (Y/N), pulling her into a hug. The two squeezed each other tightly for a brief moment before (Y/N) let go, pushing her fingers through her hair.

Sties crossed the room and took a seat on the couch with (Y/N). The Sheriff took a seat in the overstuff and slightly uncomfortable gray armchair, across from the young couple. An air of uncomfortableness settled in the room as Stiles knotted and un-knotted his hands in his lap.

“So,” the Sheriff said, drawing out the’ _o_ ’. “This is the weirdest parent/teacher conference I’ve ever attended. What has my son done now?”

_Me,_ (Y/N) thought, covering her mouth so as not to snicker. She licked her lips, “well, Mr. Stilinski, your son’s performance has been, dare I say, less than satisfactory?”

Stiles turned to look at her, giving her a furrowed brow glare. “Excuse me? My performance in what?” 

Sheriff laughed, crossing his leg over his knee. “Really, you two. Why did you guys have me come over here so early? I thought dinner wasn’t for another hour?”

“It isn’t,” Stiles responded, his throat getting dry with the realization that this was it. This was the time in which he would have to announce to his father that he was going to upgrade in dad status. That he would transcende from Father Stilinski to Grandfather Stilinski. Stiles’ palms began to sweat. 

“Son,” Sheriff prompted motioning with his hand for his son to continue. “What is it?” 

Stiles cleared his dry throat, rubbing his sweating palms against his jean clad thighs. “It’s nothing, really. I mean. Okay, well it’s technically something. A big something. No, really it’s a small something. It’s a small something. It’s nothing to even really concern yourself with dad. Honestly, I don’t know why we even brought this up. I promise. Nothing important.”

(Y/N) rest her hand on Stiles knee, giving it a squeeze to try stopping him from rambling. It didn’t work, and she moved her hand back to her own lap, spinning the small ring she kept above the second knuckle of her left ring finger. 

Sheriff stared, watching the two of them with narrowed eyes. “What the hell are you talking about, son?” The sheriff asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well,” Stiles started again. His voice had kept it’s regular anxious pitch, but sped up. “We’ve got something to tell you. We as in (Y/N) and I. Well, technically it’s just me because (Y/N) isn’t doing much talking. She likes to watch me flounder, throw me to the wolves so to speak. Anyway,” he rubbed at his forehead, trying to collect his thoughts. “You know how we’re best friends, right dad?”

Stiles father nodded, watching his son, his eyebrow now raised in wonder. “Yeah, I’ve known that for years. Why are you clarifying?”

“Just bear with me,” Stiles encouraged, licking his lips, pulling them back between his teeth for a second while he thought of what to say next. (Y/N) pursed her lips together watching him with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. “You know we’re like, really close right? The closest I’ve ever been with someone that I’m not dating or that isn’t Scott.”   
“Again, yes, Stiles. Where is this going?”

Stiles shot his father a look, “let me just get there naturally.” 

Sheriff Stilinski took a deep breath and sank back further against the chair. 

“Anyway,” Stiles leg began bouncing. “Well a - what would you say? Month and a half? Almost two months?”

(Y/N) nodded, shrugging her shoulders a bit, “sure.”

“Almost two months ago we were hanging out - watching a show together -, and we got to drinking like grown adults do,” Stiles nodded along to his own story. “Well, right. One thing lead to another and well.” Stiles motioned between (Y/N) and himself. “We kind of - well no we totally did, get her pregnant. Well, by that I mean. I got (Y/N) pregnant, because I’m the guy and according to what I have read. That’s how it works. The one with the sperm gets the one with the egg pregnant. Right?”

(Y/N) brought her hand up to her eyes, rubbing them tiredly, mentally chastising herself when she remembered the mascara she wore on her eyelashes. “Stiles, please. Stop before you further embarrass the both of us.”

Stiles pouted a little, “I’m not embarrassing us, (Y/N). Don’t be rude. I’m trying to talk to my father about this. It’s important and it’s big - little really - like the size of a poppy seed. I have an app that tells me how big the little one is and it told me it’s a poppy seed right now.” He shook his head. “We’re having a baby.” He finally _actually_  announced to his father, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

Noah sat in his slightly uncomfortable arm chair, processing the vomit of words his son had just strewn across the living room floor. (Y/N) glanced between the two generations of Stilinski men, her hand resting on her stomach of its own accord. When no one said anything for longer than Stiles could bear, he opened his mouth again to speak, his father's hand shooting up faster than he figured should be humanly possible. 

“Don’t,” his father sighed. Noah took a deep breath, his chest constricting tightly around his lungs. “You dragged me over here to tell me a lie?”

“What?” Stiles asked, head shaking back and forth rapidly in shock, eyes widening and eyebrows shooting to his hairline. “A lie? What? No. Dad, this is - this is serious. Like, cancer serious but like, not miserable serious. It’s a baby. Dad. (Y/N)’s pregnant! With my child. Our child. What do we call it, (Y/N)? Ours or mine? I don’t really know the proper terminology. I’ve heard people say it both ways when discussing their impending offspring.”

“Stiles, you’re rambling.”

“Mhmm.” He agreed, nodding his head a little. “I am. But that’s because this... guy,” he pointed at his father. “Doesn’t believe that you’re pregnant. You just straight up called our unborn child a lie, dad. That hurts,” Stiles declared, turning to look at his father.

“I’m sorry, kid. I just,” Noah sat up a bit straighter. “I never thought that I would be sat down to be that you were going to be a father.”

“Excuse me? Do I not seem the fatherly type?”

Noah shook his head, “you do. I wasn’t finished. I meant, be a father with _(Y/N)_. I always figured you two would be in love with each other and not say anything about it until the two of you died.” 

“We aren’t in love with each other,” (Y/N) corrected, leaving the rest of the conversation untouched. 

“From what I’ve _sort of_  heard, through all of his looping rambles, is that you’re having his baby,” Sheriff pointed at Stiles his eyes on (Y/N). “That kind of makes it seem like you’re in love.” 

Stiles shook his head, not wanting his father to continue to out him as being mindlessly in love with his best friend who was now holding the title of ‘mother-to-his-child’. He didn’t need _that_  embarrassing conversation today. 

“Okay,” Stiles began again. “Don’t look at this like ‘oh we’re two people in love who made a baby because it’s the next step in our wonderful loving and committed relationship’. Cause, there’s no relationship here besides a purely platonic friendship-y relationship. Right, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) nodded, wondering how this would end. 

“Think of it like in the way that like, okay. (Y/N)’s uterus - or is it your womb? God, I swear I learned anatomy once. I did. I promise, it’s a credit. Whatever, (Y/N)’s uterus sounds better. (Y/N)’s uterus is a hotel, okay. She had a vacancy, because there wasn’t a baby. Okay, see where I’m going with this? And one day I had - oh my God!” He shouted to himself, bringing his hands up to his arm that (Y/N) started smacking. 

“Do /not/ refer to my uterus as a fucking _hotel_ , Stilinski. Jesus Christ! There are four thousand different ways you can say this, without using that weird analogy.”

Noah began laughing, shaking his head at the two in front of him.

“What I was _trying_ to say, before you started abusing me, _in front of a cop_  no less - was this; (Y/N) wanted a baby, I wanted a baby. She had an egg, I had sperm. Yadahyadah, we decided that I’d use her egg, she’d use my sperm. We’d do some things to get the party started, and bam! Baby.” 

“I’m getting an abortion, I’ve changed my mind. I swear to God. I need a drink more than I have ever needed a drink in my /entire/ life, Stilinski.” 

“We discussed not saying you’re getting rid of the baby.”

“That was  _before_ you called my uterus a hotel.”

Noah’s laugh caused the two of them to turn their heads and stop their arguing, “so. You’re having a baby, because you’re a couple? But you’re not a couple? But you’ve been having… relations?”

“Basically,” Stiles nodded.

“Minus the couple part all together. We are  _just_ friends, who had sex, and wound up with a baby.”   
“So it was an accident?” Noah asked.

(Y/N) shook her head, “no! It was planned, it was planned. It was ..”

“An agreement,” Stiles finished for her. 

“You guys agreed to have a baby?”

“Yep.” (Y/N) popped the ‘p’.

Noah stood up, walking away from the two of them. Stiles bound after his father, brows knitted together in confusion. “What are you doin’?” He wondered, gripping onto the edge of the counter when they both stopped in the kitchen. 

“Getting a drink,” Noah declared, finding a bottle of whiskey in Stiles liquor cabinet. 

“Get me one!” (Y/N) called from the living room.

“Ignore her,” Stiles sighed. “Look, dad. I promise it isn’t as weird as it sounds. It really isn’t. She’s my best friend in the entire world. I would kill a numerous amount of men for her if I so needed to. That’s why this is so perfect. I really wanted a child, dad. And so did she, you should have seen the way she looked when we first started the conversation that spurred on us deciding to have a baby together. It was heartbreaking.”

“I know the look,” Noah mused, adding a handful of ice to a glass he’d taken from the cupboard. 

“Right, cause you’re a dad. Anyway,” Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck. “She was gonna go to a sperm bank, dad. How gross is that?”

“Aren’t you essentially a familiar sperm bank?” 

“Ouch. Wow, okay, no. I’m going to help raise the baby. It’s going to be split, fifty-fifty. Half hers, half mine. Sperm banks are one hundred percent the mom, zero percent the father. I didn’t think I needed to explain that.” Stiles sighed, taking the drink from his father when he walked close enough. 

“That was mine,” Noah acknowledged, turning back around to make himself another drink. 

“It’s going to be good, dad. Seriously. This baby is going to be so lucky. Not only will (Y/N) be it’s mother, which already sets it up to have a good chance in life, but it’ll have me and you, and the whole rest of the pack. This may seem weird, trust me. I’ve spent every night since we made this agreement thinking about how weird it is. But. It’s good. I promise. I’m happy, dad. I’m excited.” 

Noah turned his head, looking at his son over his shoulder. “You and I both know this is going to hurt you, Stiles.”

Stiles downed the amber liquid from his stolen glass, setting it down on the countertop with a clink. “How is it going to hurt me?”

“Cause,” Noah turned around, leaning his back against the counter. “I know you’re in love with her. I know because you’ve told me, time and time again. I know because you look at her like I was told I looked at your mother.” Noah frowned, giving his son an apologetic look. “She was quick to shut down you two being in a relationship when I mentioned it, son. She probably sees this as no more than what you were trying to peddle me out there, a business deal.” 

“It is,” Stiles said with no truth to it.

“Sure,” Noah disagreed. “Look. I just know that the longer she’s pregnant, the more attached you both will get to each other. You’re going to fall for her harder, Stiles. C’mon. You know that. You know that this isn’t going to end well for you, son. When that baby comes she’s going to go back to being the same ol’ best friend she always was to you, and it’s going to break your heart. You’re going to have to share custody of this baby with her, and you’re going to probably have to watch her get into a relationship with someone else. I just,” Noah shook his head, downing his drink in the same manner his son had done a moment prior. 

Stiles shook his head, spinning the ice in the glass with his middle finger. “I’ll be fine, dad,” Stiles promised, not looking up at his father. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be good. We’ll be good. Can’t you just, maybe, be happy for me? I’m going to be a father, dad… This is good.” 

Noah frowned for a brief second before nodding, “okay, Stiles. You’re right. You’ll be good. C’mere.” 

Stiles crossed the kitchen, embracing his dad in a warm hug. “I’m really happy for you, kiddo. Congratulations, to you and (Y/N).”

“Thanks, dad,” Stiles said, smiling into the hug.


End file.
